“Jenny’s done an amazing job, don’t you think?” he said.
“Totally. What time’s she coming tonight?”
“She’s here already. Who do you think arranged all this? Probably powdering her nose before members of the press are let in the doors to grill her.”
“Good. I need a quiet word before the kickoff.”
“Me too. I want to tell her how brilliant these are. And try to get copies to send to Jaymes.”
“You’ll have to wait. My need is more pressing, but I’ll pass your message on.”
“What could be more pressing?”
“Nothing you need to worry your pretty lovesick head about,” she said, releasing him after a hug and giving him a cryptic smile. “Just make sure you’re there—front and centre—at the next committee meeting.”
Without elucidating more, she strolled off like a proud peahen. On any other day, he might have been irked or tempted to push her for more information. But he decided to hold his tongue, ignore his irritation and simply enjoy the evening. As Polly disappeared into the restroom, he noticed Father Mulligan opening the double doors to the hall. A crowd of people had already gathered outside. Nodding once, Father Mulligan stepped out of the way, allowing Clifton and Raul to enter the hall, shepherded in by Clifton’s manager, Giorgio. None of them were supposed to attend the calendar launch. Raul spotted Nathan first, and they both headed his way.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” Nathan asked with a smile of relief.
“Giorgio’s instructions,” said Clifton as, in turn, they hugged him. “To give you full support. Bet nobody told you there’d be television crews here tonight?”
“Seriously?” said Nathan, astounded. “Does Arlene know?”
“She does now, doesn’t she, love?” said Clifton, turning to Raul, whose gaze appeared hypnotised by the photographs on the wall behind Nathan. “We gave her a lift. Giorgio and I were having a meeting with her husband when she burst into his office to tell him. Poor thing was in such a state that she left her laptop with the presentation on his desk. She only realised once we were in the car on the way. Otherwise we’d have arrived earlier.”
Arlene had called Nathan the previous day, feeling anxious about the number of attendees expected at the launch. She had rattled off a lengthy list of questions regarding the football team and the village, facts she might choose to include in her introduction.
“Nathan, these shots are amazing,” said Raul, heading straight for the wall and carefully scrutinising the unofficial photographs. “The two of you are adorable.”
“Thank you,” said Nathan, smiling, remembering a similar comment made by a girl at the airport coffee shop. “We had no idea Jenny was taking them.”
“I might need to have a word with her,” murmured Raul. “See if we can employ her amazing talents.”
“She’s here tonight. And I’m sure she’ll be happy to chat with our guest celebrities.”
At that moment Father Mulligan opened the doors to the press, allowing camera crews to set up equipment and press members to take seats towards the front. Fifteen minutes later, he admitted the rest of the waiting public.
Once everyone had settled, Arlene stepped up to the front—freshly styled hair and somewhat overstated make-up—and the anticipation in the hall felt almost tangible. People crowded the room, with every seat taken up and many other attendees forced to stand along the walls. Like a firing squad, professionals with cameras on tripods or holding heavy-looking cameras lined up behind the last row of chairs. As Father Mulligan had informed Nathan during their earlier meeting, the official hall capacity stood at two hundred and fifty. Nathan estimated they had that number, perhaps a few more, crammed inside the four walls.
Most importantly for Nathan, all of the football squad and their partners had turned out and sat in reserved seats in the first two rows. As part of the committee, Nathan stood at the front with Polly, Father Mulligan, Clifton and Raul. Only Doris hadn’t shown up. Father Mulligan had relayed her apologies about her being a bit under the weather. Nathan wondered if she might have an aversion to large crowds. When Arlene walked to the centre and waited, everyone slowly quieted.
“Ladies and gentlemen, members of the press, welcome to the launch of Crumbington’s very first official calendar to mark our annual garden fête. Maybe this is not a completely original initiative in the grand scheme of things, but for the villagers of Crumbington, this has been something extraordinary. Special because those involved form an integral part of our village community. The players in our small football team are not only passionate about the team they play for but also contribute to our little community in their day-to-day occupations. That’s something we aim to showcase tonight. All of the squad of eighteen handsome gentlemen sitting here at the front wanted to take part in my initiative, but sadly, there are only twelve months in the calendar year, so we could only take the better-looking among them.”
At first there came polite but muted laughter, until Mikey guffawed loudly from the front like a braying donkey. His outburst prompted a second wave of much louder, widespread laughter from around the room, especially from the rest of the players.
“I know there has been substantial publicity about this venture in the media, and while I would never downplay anything that brings the world’s attention to our little corner of the world, I do want to focus you tonight on these real heroes of this piece. Soon to be in the finals against Bosworth Heath in the Southdown Cup, after their one-nil win against Middlehampton Wanderers, nobody can accuse our players of just being pretty faces. This is the first time in fifteen years our team has performed so well and the first time we’ve reached the final. Each of them is a real person, with a real job, who earns a modest living and has agreed to do the calendar out of sheer love for their community.”
Arlene stopped to take a sip of water, which prompted a polite round of applause instigated by villagers in the room. A couple of the players looked around, startled and Nathan felt equally moved by the words of support.
“The men are all here tonight to chat freely, to autograph officially purchased calendars later on, and also to sell tickets for the upcoming fête. As I’m sure you’re all aware by now, the majority of the proceeds will go to worthwhile local charities, so please dig deep. As you may also know, Clifton O’Keefe and his partner, Raul Jurado, have kindly agreed to open our fête in June and to spend the day with us, helping out on stalls and in the multitude of activities we have planned. Clifton and Raul have also lent us their support tonight, and I’m sure if you have any questions for them later on—”
As Clifton and Raul stepped out front from beside the projector screen, politeness and control flew out the window. Flashes of lights lit the hall like strobes. Only a few reporters had the decency to hold their hands in the air. Others simply shouted questions to the front. Startled, Arlene stumbled back a step and became tongue-tied until a calmly smiling Raul came to the rescue, took her gently by the elbow and led her to stand next to Clifton's manager, allowing an equally composed Clifton to take centre stage.
“Clifton, is there any truth in the recent allegations of a leaked sex tape, and do you think this has anything to do with you not winning theEvening Chronicleaward for breakthrough performance?”
“What do you have to say about the claims surrounding you and Helen Monash falling out over artistic differences on the set of your upcoming drama,Candlelight?”
“Is there any truth in the rumour that you and Raul are about to break up?”
